


R.O.U.S (aka as we're living on the Hellmouth, Derek)

by fangirl42



Series: Stiles Stiliniski Prompt Week [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, It had to be rats, M/M, Princess Bride References, R.O.U.S.s, Rats, Stiles is a geek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:35:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl42/pseuds/fangirl42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek calls Stiles in the wee hours of the morning to help with a little infestation problem. Stiles is no happy. Derek is amused. </p>
<p>Todays' prompt is 0-dark-30/Hoodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	R.O.U.S (aka as we're living on the Hellmouth, Derek)

The strains of Duran Duran’s Hungry Like the Wolf emerged from Stiles phone. The song made it all the way to the cheesy chorus before he managed to find it, groping blindly in the dark and cursing.

“You better be about to die, Derek cause fuck me but I’ve only been asleep for…” he pulled the phone back from his ear and squinted at the too bright screen. “Fuck you. An hour and a half.”

“Shut up, Stiles. Meet me at the trailhead.”

The call ended and Stiles groaned, mumbling about rude Alphas and their bossy ways as he rolled out of bed. Trying not to trip, he pulled his jeans on, stuffed his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his keys, backpack, and red hoodie on the way out. His Dad had the night shift, so he didn’t even have to sneak out.

The trip to the trailhead at the Preserve was short but long enough for Stiles’ mind to flit through a dozen or more possible scenarios for why Derek had called him, each one progressively more dismal and bloody. By the time he pulled into the parking place next to Derek’s Camaro, Stiles was closer to a panic attack than he’d been since the fun, fun times with Gerard.

Oh, Christ, he hoped that evil old man wasn’t back. 

Yanking on the parking brake and shutting off the engine, Stiles glanced around, looking for Derek. Turning to open his door, he flinched when Derek’s glowering face popped into view.

“Dammit, Derek, haven’t I told you about the creeper ways, man? Announce yourself.”

Derek yanked open the door and fisted the fleece of Stiles hoodie.

“What have I told you about wearing this thing?”

“Whatever, sourwolf. It’s o-dark-thirty and November and it’s freaking cold. Not all of us are self-sustaining heat generators. Fuck you very much.”

Derek pulled Stiles out of the jeep, pushing him against the rear quarter panel as he peered in the back seat. “Do you have your bat with you?”

“Um, yeah,” Stiles scoffed. “Don’t leave home without it.”

“Get it and follow me.”

Stiles reached in the back seat and pulled out the mountain ash bat he’d carved himself on the wood shop lathe. He was rather proud of this bat and not just because he’d carved it himself and managed to not cut off his fingers. It was his idea from start to finish – researching bats, finding and purchasing the right wood and studying hours of YouTube videos to find out how to make the damn thing. He was thinking about adding an iron core to give it that added oomph but that was clearly for another day.

“So, alpha my alpha, what’s the skinny? And why did you call on me instead of kicking Isaac out of the puppy pile to tag along?”

“There is no puppy pile, Stiles. Focus.”

“On what?” Stiles gritted out as he followed Derek into the woods.

“How about not falling on your face.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

“I found something in the woods just outside the pack boundary.”

“Animal, vegetable or mineral?”

Derek glanced over his shoulder at Stiles, frowning. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Seriously, dude. This couldn’t have waited until, I don’t know, the sun came up at least?”

“No.”

Stiles sighed and focused on staying on his feet as he followed Derek. At least he had an unobstructed view of one of Beacon Hills’ top ten assets. Though when he had started noticing Derek’s ass was still a mystery to Stiles. Sometime over the summer, he’d realized that maybe he’d been using Lydia as an excuse for a while. Pining for her was easier than admitting he was alone. They’d discovered that they worked so much better as research buds and friends and then the whole alpha pack debacle had happened and Jackson….

Shaking his head to dismiss his wandering thoughts, he bumped into a suddenly motionless Derek. 

The alpha growled low in warning and reached a hand back to steady Stiles. He crouched down and pulled Stiles along with him as he gazed into the small clearing in front of them. Derek drew Stiles close to his side and pointed with his free hand at something odd. Stiles cocked his head to one side and frowned. What the hell was that?

“I don’t know. Hence why we’re here.”

“Did I say that out loud? My bad. Um, what’s it smell like?”

Stiles glanced at Derek and was a bit surprised to see him in his beta form. He seemed unsure which in turn made Stiles nervous for the first time. 

“I can’t tell,” Derek mumbled. “It smells almost like a rat but not.”

“A rat. You brought me out here to hunt a rat.”

“I told you, it’s only like a rat. Something’s off.”

“Something’s off about the rat-like thing. Ok. I take it that it’s not something that’s supposed to be here, right?”

“No. Definitely.”

“Ok then. Now what?”

“Stay behind me.”

Derek crept forward, drawing slowly closer to the creature that rustled in the leaf debris of the forest floor. Stiles could hear faint growls and was that a squeak? What the hell. Derek motioned for Stiles to take up a flanking position and the two split in opposite directions. Stiles froze when a long pointed snout emerged from the leaves and a pair a beady eyes focused directly on him. The growling grew louder as the creature launched itself in his direction.

Stiles took a half step back and drew his bat over his left shoulder as something that vaguely reminded him of the Rodents of Unusual Size only not so fluffy and lump-like came barreling towards him. With his feet braced, he swung his bat with a yell. The bat landed with solid bone crunching sound as Derek landed on the creature’s back. Between them, they dispatched it quickly and with extreme prejudice.

It took only a minute, but when it was over, Stiles propped his bloody bat on the ground and leaned over it, panting. Once he was able to breathe without danger of hyperventilating, Stiles knelt to take a closer look. The rat-thing was three feet long with a pair of wicked looking incisors that looked to be almost six inches in length. It probably weighed about 50 pounds. In all, not something he wanted to meet in a dark alley behind the Tastee-Freeze dumpster.

“What the ever-living hell, dude?” 

“Don’t look at me.”

“We are seriously living on the Hellmouth, Derek. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Stiles,” Derek growled.

“Derek,” Stiles growled back and rolling his eyes. He pushed against his knees to stand, one hand on his back and stretching. “I dub thee Dire Rat,” Stiles grumped as he kicked the still body. “You know the thing about rats, Derek?”

Stiles looked up and caught Derek’s eye, frowning. “I’m sure you’re going to tell whether I want to know or not,” muttered Derek.

“Damn skippy. The thing about rats, my friend. They live in things called colonies. This, uh, dude,” he said as he toed the rat over to reveal it’s frankly impressive set of balls, “he’s got a lady friend or two or three. Possibly a bunch of little baby dire rats. There’s a nest of these things somewhere, Derek. A nest of enormous. Stupid. Dire-fucking-rats,” Stiles grunted out, punctuating each word with a sharp poke at the rat with his bat. He looked up at Derek and groaned. “How is this my life?”

Derek frowned at the younger man, eyebrows drawn down tight in disapproval. Stiles threw up his hands and stomped off deeper into the forest, mumbling about dire rats and the Hellmouth and why would nobody believe him when he said that this town was seriously fucked. Derek watched him as he flailed and kept up a steady stream of nonsense. 

In the beginning, he turned to Stiles for help with the random shit that seemed determined to keep raining down on their heads because he’d had little choice. He wanted to get Scott to accept the pack bond and Stiles was part of the package. Over time, he realized Peter had made a mistake turning Scott. Stiles would have made the better wolf. Hell, he was the better wolf and he was still human. Stiles might not be able to track down things down or be of real use in a fight, but he brought something intangible to the table. And seriously, what did it say about him that his go-to guy was a geeky teenager that looked to TV and Dungeons and Dragons for answers to the shit storm that was their life as much as any moldy book Derek reluctantly tossed his way. Somehow, Stiles became the first person Derek thought of when things went south. 

Now, Derek didn’t just want Stiles help with whatever insanity reared its head, now he needed Stiles. Needed him safe, needed him happy, needed his oh so quick mind and quicker wit. Without Stiles, the Hale pack wouldn’t exist. He’s saved the pack, saved Derek. He kept them functioning as a group and kept Derek sane.

Standing in the woods, listening to Stiles rant, Derek smiled as he heard the teen stop and turn around.

“Derek! Get over here and use your super wolfy nose to track these fuckers down. I have a test in Econ in the morning. Oh, excuse me, later today. As in 4 short hours from now.”

Derek shook his head, covering the smile and followed the sound of Stiles’ voice. “Shut up, Stiles.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll rip out your throat. With my teeth,” answered mildly.

“Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. It’s not so scary anymore. Get over here and let’s get this over with already.”

They tracked the dire rat’s trail back to its burrow near the lake behind the Hale house as the sun rose. A quick call to Lydia to secure a couple of canisters of her homemade napalm, after Derek reluctantly agreed to pay for a new pair of Armani boots, and another to Isaac to assist and the nest was dealt with. 

“Dude, that reeks,” Stiles grumbled, covering his face with the sleeve of his red hoodie as he watched the entrance for escaping rat flambé. The fire burned for a while, feeding on whatever nesting materials were in the burrow as well as the rats. “I think it’s safe to leave this mess in your capable hands, my man. Want a ride to school, Isaac?”

Isaac shrugged. “Sure, but I have to grab my backpack from the station.”

“Whatever. If this mess smells bad to me, you two must be dying. Let’s go.”

“Stiles.”

The teen stopped and pivoted on his toe to turn back and glare at the alpha. “What,” he grumped.

“Thanks.”

Stiles looked surprised and a bit shocked at the older man’s words. Rubbing one hand through his buzz cut, he shrugged and crooked an awkward grin at Derek.

“Yeah, uh no problem. Any time.”

Derek watched the two teens head off back through the woods to the trailhead and Stiles’ jeep. Stiles kept up a running commentary as he swung his bat, retelling the story of their first encounter. He distinctly heard Stiles ask Isaac if he’d ever seen the Princess Bride and how he had a deeper appreciation of Wesley and Buttercup’s escape from the Fire Swamp now and he was totally Wesley in this instance and not the damsel, thank you very much. The last words Derek caught before the two slipped out of range was that it was time for a Buffy marathon, Derek-be-damned, cause it was clearly research.


End file.
